


kill the rabbit

by BearSpirit



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Once Upon a Time in Wonderland (TV)
Genre: F/F, Mystery, Romance, Speculative, also - platonic rumbelle detectives!!, because it will get darker and smuttier in later chapters, i christen this ship anabelle and i will sail it alone if i have to, i'll probably have to change the rating later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 14:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9276140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearSpirit/pseuds/BearSpirit
Summary: Belle's a small town librarian who tries her best to mind her own business and stay out of everyone's way. Or at least she was, before she started having dreams of a mysterious girl with a strange request.





	

Belle noticed her almost immediately – maybe half a mile away, dancing under the sun’s spotlight in a white slip. 

Tilting her head curiously, Belle walked towards her and – as was the nonsensical way of dreams – by the time she was close, night had fallen. Crickets were chirping and the chilly air made her wrap her jacket tighter around herself. The girl was still dancing – or, rather, it seemed she was not actually dancing, but instead trying to catch Belle’s attention by waving her arms and jumping. 

“Hello,” Belle said as she neared the other woman, smiling a bit. Now close enough to get a better look at her, she could tell she was an attractive woman, rather short (perhaps an inch or so taller than Belle) with fair skin and golden hair that fell to where her braline would be – although, she noted with a deep reddening in her cheeks, it didn’t seem this woman was wearing anything beneath her slip. Ashamed of herself for even noticing such a thing, Belle brought her eyes back up to the blonde’s face, observing the features there instead. She watched her square jawline soften as her lips parted to speak. 

“Belle,” she said her name softly, almost in a whisper.

“You know me?” Belle asked, surprised. The blonde just smiled and nodded. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, once again looking down the line of the other woman’s body, checking for goosebumps on her partially bare chest, then on her arms and legs. Her eyes traveled to the ground, where she noticed her feet were covered in dirt. 

“A bit,” she admitted, though she shook her head when Belle immediately began to take off her jacket. “No, keep it. It won’t help me, anyway.” Her accent was lovely – British and slightly cockney, Belle determined, but not overwhelmingly so. After a moment, the blonde tilted her head, an inviting look in her expression as she cast a quick glance towards a fallen log behind her. “Won’t you come sit with me?” 

Belle followed her wordlessly, sitting to the left of the other woman and crossing her legs semiconsciously. Not wanting to fill the silence with meaningless chatter, she instead chose to listen to the night, watching her companion out of the corner of her eye and waiting for her to initiate. After a moment, she realized something that might have struck her as strange if she wasn’t sure this was a dream – she could feel no body heat coming from the woman beside her, and sitting this close, she surely should have. 

Turning her head to look at her directly now, Belle observed the blonde’s pained expression with an empathetic one of her own. The woman beside her bit her lip determinedly before meeting her gaze.

“There is a reason I wanted us to meet,” she started hesitantly. 

Belle raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Yes?” As this woman was only a figment of her imagination, Belle didn’t think much of her words, but she decided to go along with it. There was no fun in having dreams if you labelled them as such and refused to participate in them, after all. As she waited for the blonde to continue, the only noise she could hear was the chirping of crickets, and the crackle of a fire that had recently started (because Belle only just now realized there should be one, and this was Belle’s dream, after all). 

Slowly, almost reluctantly, the woman brushed her hair over one shoulder, revealing previously hidden purple and black bruises on the back of her neck. Examining her closely under the firelight, she noticed a visible patch of hair at the base of her skull that was sticky with congealed blood. Belle’s eyes widened in horror as she stared, transfixed and unable to form words. Finally, she forced herself to look away from the damaged skin, choosing instead to look into the woman’s troubled gray eyes. 

“I need you to solve my assault,” she said, and Belle awoke in her own bed, covered in a thin sheet of sweat. 

\--------

“You’re here early today, Mr. Gold,” Belle called as she hurried towards the door of the library, keys jingling in her hand. The person she was speaking to, a well-aged man in a business suit, stepped out of her way, giving her a slight smile as he did so. 

“I was under the impression the library opened at 9.”

“Yes, it does.” Belle twisted the keys in the door and opened it, inviting her first visitor in with a gesture of her arm as she switched on the light with her other hand. 

“It’s 9:15.”

Belle’s eyebrows raised in surprise – she was never late. Although she knew Gold to be an honest man, her eyes flinted up to the analogue clock on the wall above her desk to confirm. It was indeed 9:15. Well, 9:13, anyway. “Ah, sorry,” Belle apologized with an embarrassed laugh. “I’ve been kind of out of it this morning.”

“Something wrong, dearie? Wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Mr. Gold cocked his head, looking curious. “A bad dream, perhaps?”

“Actually, yeah. Well…” the librarian drifted off, walking behind her desk and setting down her bag. “I think I did, anyway. I—I can’t really remember it now.”

“Funny how dreams work, isn’t it?” His cane clicked on the floor as he moved further into the building. He utilized his crutch with such expertise that the limp in his stride was almost undetectable.

Belle’s eyes followed him as he glanced down one of the aisles, appearing to be in no hurry. His routine presence in the library was intriguing to Belle – for about three weeks now his visits had been as frequent as every other day, and he would disappear among the bookshelves for hours at a time. She would walk by occasionally, partially out of duty and partially out of sheer curiosity, and every time she would find him sifting through each row, careful not to skip over any titles. “So, um,” she started, “Are you finally going to tell me what book you’re looking for? I could help you, you know. I do work here, after all.”

He chuckled, his back to her. “Well thank you, dearie, but I’m afraid I must decline the offer.”

“You know,” she said, scrunching her features, “You can’t keep it a secret from me forever. When you do find it, you’ll have to bring it to me to check out.”

“So I suppose you’ll find out then, won’t you?”

Belle furrowed her brow, opening her mouth to respond, but Mr. Gold was already strolling down a row of books. He disappeared around a corner and the sound of his cane tapping the floor faded with distance. She sighed and shook her head as she listened to him go.

\------

“Hiya, Belle!” The nurse recognized her right away, smiling and waving her over to the desk. Belle did her best to shuffle over, though with her arms piled high with a stack of children’s books leveling at her chin, she found herself swaying and nearly losing her balance several times. Finally arriving at the front desk, her breath heavy and her muscles shaking from overexertion, the librarian leaned down and let the nurse pick books off the top one by one, gradually relieving her of her burden. 

“You know, you should really consider using a cart or a dolly or something,” the nurse commented over the growing pile of books on the desk.

“This is fine. I’m fine,” Belle grunted, praying the nurse would hurry up and finish before her arms gave out of energy. 

“Awful nice of you, donating these books for the sick kids. You sure your library doesn’t need them?”

“No, we have plenty,” Belle replied, offering up a smile that took a great deal of effort. “This is the least I can do –“ She was about to continue that maybe she could come in sometime to read to the children who didn’t have anyone else, but she had just stuck her foot out behind her for balance and it just so happened at the exact moment she’d done so a man with a sickly pale complexion was passing a bit too quickly and too close to her. He yelped as he stumbled forward, spilling the contents of his arms all over the lobby floor, barely able to break his fall with his hands before faceplanting into the ground. Belle stumbled too, although she was able to drop the few books left in her hands and catch herself on the counter instead of falling. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Belle apologized profusely. “Are you okay?”

The man blinked a few times, as if he’d just woken up from a trance, and as Belle bent down on the floor to help him gather his things, even from a distance she could smell the alcohol on his breath. “’m fine,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the floor as he collected a tin that Belle assumed was filled with some sort of food – cookies, maybe – and a plastic container with a single slice of chocolate cake in it, along with a disposable fork. Belle picked up a bouquet of lilies and roses and handed it back to him. “Thanks,” he said, taking it before looking in dismay at the rest of his things, which were still littering the floor in front of him. 

“Um, do you want me to walk with you? I could help you carry something,” she offered.

“That’d be great, actually, if ya don’t mind,” he said quietly. His voice sounded a bit raspy, like he had worn it out recently.

“Of course not. I’m not in a rush to be anywhere,” she replied, quickly scooping up the remaining items – a fuzzy blanket, a boxed chess set and a few picture frames. 

“I’m Will,” the man said, seeming distracted as he stood up and brushed off his legs with the outside of the hand holding the bouquet. “I’d shake your hand, but—“

“It’s alright, I forgive you,” she replied cheerfully, “I’m Belle.”

Will started walking and Belle fell into step beside him. “So, who are you, um, here to visit, if you don’t mind me asking?” she asked cautiously. 

He visibly stiffened, looking straight ahead to avoid eye contact as he replied, “Erm, it’s – well it’s a bit complicated, I suppose,” he admitted. “I guess she’s me ex-girlfriend, then.”

“Oh,” Belle nodded, honestly a bit surprised he would go to all this work for someone he wasn’t even involved with anymore, but perhaps they had ended things on good terms. Maybe they were still friends. “It’s very kind of you to do this for her.”

“She don’t got no one else, really,” he replied with a shrug. “It’s this one ‘ere." He came to a halt in front of a door and took a moment to gather himself, shuffling his feet a bit, before pushing it open and allowing Belle to walk in ahead of him. 

A man with dark features and bronze skin was standing beside the hospital bed as they entered and Will bristled immediately, coming forward to stand defensively in front of Belle. "Jafar. What are you doing 'ere?" he said, practically spitting the words out. 

"Paying my respects," he answered, rather nonchalant in comparison. 

"She's not dead," Will retorted sharply. 

Jafar simply nodded, stepping away from the hospital bed and the ICU monitors. "No," he said, his eyes lingering on the bouquet of flowers in Will's hands. "Although, lilies _are_ typically given as an offering for the dead." He smiled at them, though his action bared no real warmth or sincerity, before passing them both and walking out the door. Will glared after him. Belle walked towards the bed, upon which a comatosed blonde lay unmoving apart from the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Wires and tubes decorated her body, and on her neck, half-hidden by her pillow, she was adorned with some strikingly familiar purple bruises.


End file.
